In Memory
by randomfox
Summary: During the course of the game I only ever lost one recruit... this is her story.


**I RETURN! WITH MEDIOCRITY!**

**Yeah, real life is a bitch and allows little time for writing. Plus I'm lazy. And other excuses.**

**But yeah, I got Assassins Creed Brotherhood, and this is based off a true story. I do not own AC: B, cuz if I did I would have not messed up the last two hours of that game with the utter putridity Ubisoft shoved in there. But that's a rant for another time, enjoy the story,**

My name isn't important, because in the long run of things I never really existed. I was a woman once though, and looking back I don't think I truly knew her. After it all happened if felt like everything else had belonged to another. And here at the end of all things I, nor she, made much of an impact on anything.

I lived in Roma, and it had been that way for most of my life. A city of violence, paradise, and grace, I have no doubt it will make its mark on the pages of history. I had lived there with my lover, and even now I can see her long blond hair covering her beautiful green eyes. When times were dark, thinking of her brought light to my world. I hope she found peace.

Life in the grand city had been good, and aside from the occasional dirty looks we were very happy. Then the Borgia came, and Roma became hell on earth. With His Holiness the Pope and his family in charge, things became harder for everyone, and those like us suffered especially. We were abominations, and simply by existing we spat in the face of "The Lord." As if a being so powerful could be insulted by the likes of us, but resisting was futile. They were an army, and we were ants.

I forget the reason, maybe we neglected a tax, a neighbor bared some false witness, or perhaps there had been no provocation at all; one way or the other, the Borgia saw it time to do away with us. Our insult against their God we made simply by existing. Or we were to be an example, or the soldiers had chosen us at random to relieve some tension, it really doesn't matter now. What's done was done.

I had been out shopping that fateful day, and when I returned home I found it destroyed; bookcases set ablaze, sheets tarnished, upholstery turned inside out, but none of it met my notice. My thoughts were filled with concerns for her, and what little hope I held was taken when I discovered her body. Even now my stomach turns as I see it in my mind, bruises littering her delicate skin, the deepest red wine staining her dress as it poured from the gash in her neck. Then, in her moment of passing, she was at her most beautiful, and it haunted me every night since.

My heart was filled with an insatiable desire for revenge. Eating, sleeping, my own safety, all physical needs overshadowed by blood lust. I fled from my home, some undiscovered sense guiding my steps, and I lost myself for the longest time before finally laying eyes on them, they who had ended her life. The blade in my hand screamed for their blood.

Without thinking I grabbed the first one and put my knife to his throat, and that got the other threes attention. They readied their weapons, but they must have recognized me or saw the vengeance in my eyes, for they did not try to reason with me. Either I was going to kill them, or they me, and the heavens themselves would have to descend before that changed.

Then one of them gasped their last breath, and all eyes were on the cause of his death. I merely saw my chance and sliced open my captives' jugular, dropping his lifeless body as revenge fueled my lung for another soldier. The mysterious death dealer was most skilled, for the target of my rage was the last of the group still alive. I relentlessly drove my blade against him, his training doing well to counter my blond assault, but I roved an effective enough distraction for the third party who plunged his sword into the soldier's spine. They all lay dead and I knew were it not for the man who interfered I would have been sent to join my lover early.

He wore an elaborate hooded outfit, a cape covering his left arm and a silver spiral of cloth going down his sleeves. I bowed as he approached me, and when he spoke he did so with the voice of wisdom and conviction. "The liberation of Roma has begun." He stated, and my heart swelled. This man meant to fight the Borgia and rid the city of their influence. He meant to ensure none suffered my lover's fate ever again. I offered him my services, and begged to be trained in his masterful art of justice. I depart without hesitation when told who to seek out to join his cause.

I learned he was a member of the Assassins, and the cynical man I meet betrayed only a flicker of interest when I approached him for training. I was given traditional robes and the sacred weapon of the order, and was taught only the most basic skills. To truly become an Assassin, I would have to learn by doing.

The tasks were simple enough at first; sometimes assisting Maestro Ezio in Roma, and sometimes being sent abroad to further the influence of the Brotherhood elsewhere. With each life I took my blade-work became more precise, and with every death caused by my hand a greater understanding of life made itself known. Nothing is true, everything is permitted. The meaning of our creed made more and more sense each day.

But even through it all, I felt dead inside. No matter how much of Roma we freed, she would never come back. The world was dark without her, and even though I followed the creed, my life lacked purpose. When I was sent on a mission of seduction, it was a façade, a ploy to gain information, and a way to take my mind off its perpetual sorrow. The moan I had been was dead long before my corpse cooled.

I rose in rank, and more difficult missions were made available to me. Death could not fill the hole left in my heart, but it was a distraction, and a means to convince myself I would help another whose life meant more than mine. Out Brotherhood grew, but I always felt alone. I only found a small glimmer of happiness in two younger recruits, Ghita and Fabiola. I saw myself and even my departed lover in them, though they themselves were only close friends and nothing more. I grew maternal towards them, and they became my new motivation in out fight against the Borgia.

One day fate would have its way with me again when I was deployed to Cologne with the goal of rooting out and killing a Templar spy. It took a few days, but eventually I found him. Unfortunately, he had known of my search and lured me into an ambush. I fought valiantly, if I do say so myself, but it was a hopeless endeavor even with my superior Assassin training. They outnumbered me, and my life saw its end at their blades. My final thoughts were of _her_, but I held no illusions; wherever she had ended up, I would find my rest far below it.

But that was not the end of my story. When word of my death reached Maestro Ezio's ears I can only imagine the feelings swirling within him. I was his first recruit to die, and I would also be the last. All I know for certain was the spy had been hunted again by a new team of recruits, and had been brutally executed in my memory. They searched the city for my body, but I had been sent to Venice shortly after my death, where I was to be examined by Templar officials who could trace my origins to our location in Roma. Friends of our order learned of this, and alerted the headquarters. It was clear what had to be done: to protect the Brotherhood, my body would have to be burned. Ashes were useless to the Templars.

Ghita and Fabiola, now Assassins proper, volunteered for the mission. To see them in action was a sight to behold, masterful teamwork born of an undying friendship. On every mission, in the field or across Europe, they were inseparable, and the knowledge that I was their target only further powered their resolve to complete their task. My body was given the utmost respect, and Fabiola even shed a tear as they watched me fade from this world. I was Okiku, and I am dead.


End file.
